


Fidget

by Dovahqueer



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mild Language, No Sex, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 15:30:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8495416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dovahqueer/pseuds/Dovahqueer
Summary: Serana's a little ball of anxiety who can't actually stand still. Aela notices immediately.





	

**Author's Note:**

> In case you ignored the warnings/tags, lemme say one more time before we start that this fic does reference past rape/non-con in the form of Serana's transformation into a vampire. It's not explicit, but I'd rather be safe than sorry. Also there's canon-typical violence, which is kinda graphic, so yeah. Warning for that, too.

 

 

 

              She sits perfectly still in the chair next to Alexius. Back straight, shoulders down, head high. She’s not even breathing, just making an effort not to meet anyone’s eye. She is a paragon of noble posture, perfectly still. Except for her hands. They’re in her lap, and she’s fiddling with something. A ring, it looks like, on her right hand. She’s twisting it to and fro, as if she doesn’t even know she’s doing it. She’s nervous.

              _As she should be, the leech,_ Aela thinks with no small amount of satisfaction, and takes a sip of her mead. She doesn’t trust vampires, even ones with the Harbinger’s vote of confidence. They’re blood-thirsty creatures, the lot of them, and if Alexius isn’t careful the pretty face he’s so quick to trust will have fangs in his neck before he can say ‘not all vampires.’ Even if everyone else lets their guard down, Aela will watch her like a hawk.

              Alexius puts her in what used to be Skjor’s room for the night, right across from Aela. She keeps her door open and a dagger under her pillow, in case the leech gets hungry in the middle of the night. Better her with her quick reflexes than the twins, or the whelps. But the vampire stays in ‘her’ room all night, the only sign that she’s even there a constant rustling of fabric and fur as she shifts in her sleep.

              Aela makes sure she rises first, and confronts Alexius about his stupid, stupid plan.

              “If you’re that worried, come with us. You can make sure she doesn’t bite,” he says, waving away her concerns. She feels more sure that he’s been enthralled with every word. “And she’s got a name, you know. It’s Serana. Might want to call her that instead of ‘bloodsucker’ or ‘leech,’ unless you want it to be your neck she goes for.”

              “That’s not funny, Alexius.”

              “It’s kinda funny.”

 

* * *

 

 

              It’s dark when they leave Forebears Holdout. Alexius guides the Moth Priest to the main road, intent on staying the night in Dragon Bridge. Easier to defend an inn than a camp with an open fire, he says. Serana lags behind, and therefor so does Aela. She’s still keeping a close eye on their bloodsucking ‘friend.’

              A lock of hair has fallen out of Serana’s complicated updo during the fight, and she absentmindedly twirls it around her finger as she walks. Aela watches for several minutes before sighing and falling into step beside her.

              “You fought well in there,” she says, gruffly. She doesn’t look directly at the vampire, but out of the corner of her eye she sees Serana pause her twirling, the hair still wrapped around her finger, and look over at her. “I know they weren’t your…clan, but it’s not easy putting down your own kind. How are you holding up?”

              “I’m…I’m all right. Thanks,” Serana answers. She lets her hair untwist itself from her finger, lets her hand drop. “Between you and Alex, I think I’ve been asked about my feelings more in the past month than the rest of my life.”

              “Your family not the sharing and caring type, I take it?” Aela asks, and Serana shakes her head.

              “When I was very young, I remember feeling like my parents loved each other, and loved me. Things changed, though, even before we became vampires,” she says softly, and looks down. “I wish we could just…go back to that time. It’s foolish, isn’t it? Wanting my father to just…see reason?”

              Aela remembers her father telling her about her mother’s death, a letter from the Companions in his hand, how she’d died fighting bandits on a job. She remembers stealing the letter when he was asleep, reading about how Kodlak had to put down a feral she-wolf with rust-colored fur. She remembers lying in bed for days after, eyes red from crying, wishing someone had just tried to help instead. She swallows the lump in her throat.

              “No, that’s not foolish at all.”

 

* * *

 

 

              They’re in Blackreach, because of course he can’t just not go to Blackreach, Alexius grumbles to himself as he pries a soul gem out of the automaton they’ve just ‘killed.’ To her left, Serana muffles a giggle. Aela makes no effort to hide her own grin.

              “Looks like you’re going to have to save the world after all, Dragonborn,” she says, pushing forward with Serana in tow. The vampire shoots him a vaguely apologetic look on her way past. They do need to find somewhere to camp before the mortals collapse from exhaustion, and they can always come back to loot tomorrow. Or whatever passes for tomorrow underground.

              “Oh sure, Farkas can avoid a couple spiders, but my fear of being eaten by dragons is totally unreasonable,” Alexius continues to grumble, but he follows as well.

              They set up for the ‘night’ in one of the smaller buildings, making damn sure it’s clear of falmer and automatons and gods alone knew what else before they even think of sitting down. Serana starts a small fire while her companions lay out their bedrolls. They eat, she sits with her legs tucked under her, picking at a loose thread on the hem of her cloak.

              “Why do all vampires seem to wear red and black?” Aela asks between bites.

              “Hmm? Oh, I don’t know. Aesthetic tradition, I guess, makes us look intimidating?” Serana says with a shrug. “We do a lot of posturing. That’s not to say we’re actually harmless, but…take the coffin thing, for example. Most vampires settle in places that are already away from the sun, so why bother boxing themselves in to sleep? It just _looks_ creepy. I always preferred a bed.”

              She keeps picking at the thread until Aela gives her a look.

              “You can eat too, it’s not going to bother us,” she says simply. Serana smiles, a slight, grateful thing, and pulls a needlessly ornate bottle out of her bag, uncorks it, and takes a much too large to be ladylike sip. As she drinks, a splash of color returns to her cheeks, and the black and red clothes suddenly look gaudy.

              Aela has a pale blue dress some relative made her, once; it had looked ridiculous on her, with all her freckles and the fierce angles of her face, and she’d only worn it to please the aunt who’d sewn it. She makes a note to grab it the next time they’re in Jorrvaskr – Serana looks about her size.

 

* * *

 

 

              Throughout Valerica’s tirade, Aela keeps an eye on Serana. She’s stiller than ever, head down and hands clenched at her side. Only her lower lip trembles, just slightly, almost unnoticeable in the dim light of the Soul Cairn. Alexius stands to the side, looking like he wants the ground to swallow him up as Valerica continues to lecture them about the sacrifices she’d made to protect her daughter.

              The daughter who looked about ready to cry at the next word.

              “That’s enough,” Aela says firmly. Valerica stops talking, looking at her in shock, and even Alexius looks a little surprised. “Just because you’re too much of a coward to face this problem head-on doesn’t mean Serana has to spend all of eternity locked away in some ruin. How is that any kinder than death?”

              “How dar-“

              Aela just holds up a hand, silencing her.

              “She’s safer among friends than she ever was in that sarcophagus. You realize your husband’s people nearly found her there?” she demands, and Valerica blinks, taken aback. Serana looks up, then, eyes wide. Aela realizes this is the first time she’s called Serana her friend, and it’s true. Of course it’s true. She’d been wrong before, she wasn’t so proud she couldn’t admit it. “Now, we need that scroll if we’re to find out where this damn bow is so we can stop this damn prophecy. So will you stop being an ass and let us in?”

              Valerica looks – really looks – at her daughter, and something in her eyes softens as she apologizes. A few words can’t make up for lifetimes of neglect, but it’s a start, and Serana doesn’t look as if she’s going to cry anymore, so Aela stands back.

              When they leave to fight the Keepers, she wraps an arm around Serana’s shoulders, and the vampire leans into her, mumbling a soft ‘thank you’ as they walk away.

 

* * *

 

 

              Alexius takes the Dragon Scroll to the Throat of the World. It’s not actually relevant to the prophecy, it turns out, and he can’t ignore his destiny any longer. Aela and Serana take the other to the Ancestor glade together. A spriggan falls with an arrow and an ice spike jutting out of its chest, and Aela laughs at the little “teamwork, right there” before they push further in.

              It’s beautiful, inside the glade proper. Huge and wild and she swears it’s glowing, and Serana has to stop at the top to just take it all in.

              “This is the kind of thing I’ve been wanting to see…I’m glad you’re here with me,” she says, looking at Aela with a grin. Her fangs used to be unsettling. Now, Aela just grins back, claps her on the shoulder, and agrees.

              “Hold this,” she says, and hands her bow over so she can take the draw knife. She can hear Serana pluck at the string while she shears some bark from a nearby canticle tree, and considers reminding her that it’s a weapon, not an instrument. A light twang, and she decides against it. Her bow can stand a few minutes of Serana’s restlessness while she attracts some moths.

              Serana waits while she walks through the glade, coaxing moths to follow her with the bark. The fluttering of their wings sounds like humming, getting louder the more she draws around herself, and she almost doesn’t hear the soft “you’re…glowing” over the noise.

              She does see the look of wonder as she stands in the beam of light, preparing to read the scroll.

              Just as Aela announces she knows where to find Auriel’s Bow, a death hound barrels down the slope into the glade, followed by some rather angry looking vampires. Serana jumps to the side to avoid being hit by a lightning spell, thrusting her bow back into her hands.

              “Here we go again.”

 

* * *

 

 

              Aela knows about the Mantle of the Vampire Lord, of course. Serana had made sure to explain, in detail, the advantages and disadvantages of the form, so she knew what she was going up against. Still, she’d never seen it. Not until the Forgotten Vale.

              The place is crawling with falmer – or the Betrayed, as Gelebor called them. The point was, there are a lot of them and they don’t take kindly to intruders. One gets into her personal space while Serana is occupied with several chaurus, knocking her to the ground. Her bow flies from her hand, skittering several yards away. Desperate, she reaches for a dagger to try and defend herself against the creature when an enraged roar sounds from across the field. Before she can raise the blade, a green-grey blur tackles the falmer and a hand tipped with wicked claws rips into its chest, going straight for the heart.

              She scrambles for her bow, but by the time she gets to it the battle is over. Her heart is pounding as she stares at the…the thing that had saved her. It just looks back at her, wringing its clawed hands.

              “Serana…?”

              A nod, and then she is shrinking back into herself. Serana stands there, falmer blood dripping from her hand, and tentatively meets her eye. She’s nervous.

              _She shouldn’t be,_ Aela thinks, and after securing her bow she steps forward and draws her into a tight hug. Serana stiffens in her arms, but she just murmurs soothing words until slowly, hesitantly, her embrace is returned.

              “Remind me not to piss you off,” she says, and Serana laughs weakly.

 

* * *

 

 

              “You should use it,” Serana says, holding Auriel’s Bow out for her to take. “You’re the one who can actually, you know, shoot, and besides, I don’t know if I can…”

              She can’t even finish the sentence, and Aela reaches out and places her hands on top of Serana’s, nodding understandingly. She’d asked again, on the trek to the Chantry, if Serana would be ready when the time came, knowing the answer was ‘no.’ Who could ever truly be ready to kill their own father? This was a man who used to pick her up and swing her around like a bell while she giggled, who used to call her his little princess and sneak her treats when her mother wasn’t looking. Serana’s voice had hitched, and Aela hadn’t pressed further.

              They take the portal back to the entry of the cave, and make camp out in the fresh air, away from the falmer and the saber cats with the weird fur. As usual, Serana averts her eyes when Aela strips out of her armor and snuggles into her bedroll for the night, fiddling with her dagger instead.

              “I haven’t got anything you haven’t, you know,” she says once she’s safely covered.

              “I know, it’s just…I’ve got some issues with nudity,” Serana replies, not really looking up from her weapon as she does.

              “Does it have anything to do with that ritual?” Aela asks. The flinch confirms it, and she props herself up on her elbow, making sure she’s still covered. “Look, I’m not judging you, but if the mere memory is that upsetting, why not consider a cure? Get a fresh start?”

              Serana doesn’t answer, but with trembling fingers, unlaces the leather corset she calls armor and lifts her shirt just enough to reveal the scars on her hip. Claw marks, like something had grabbed hold and held on for dear life. It dawns on Aela just how much damage her transformation had done to her.

              “I can’t forget, no matter what I do I can’t,” Serana says, her voice a strained whisper. “If I’m mortal, I’ll die. If I die, he’ll-”

              Aela reaches out, takes Serana’s hand, laces their fingers together.

              “I won’t let him have you,” she promises, giving her hand a comforting squeeze. Serana breaks down, but doesn’t let go.

 

* * *

 

 

              It’s over.

              Aela gives Isran a pointed look, and he mumbles out an excuse about checking the rest of the castle for more of the monsters, leaving them alone in the dark cathedral. She shuts the door behind him, giving Serana the privacy she needs to grieve.

              She’s kneeling by the pile of ashes that was her father, a blank look on her face as she sifts through and pulls out a pair of rings. One’s a plain gold wedding band, the other’s a signet ring. She turns them over and over in her hands as if something might change if she could just get them at the right angle. Aela leaves her be for a good long while, until even she can’t bear the silence any more.

              Serana might have all the time in the world, but she shouldn’t spend it in this place.

              A hand on her shoulder, and she looks up.

              “I promised your mother we’d get her when this is all over. I intend to keep that promise,” Aela says. She’s still got some family left, maybe not everything has to be lost. She’s relieved when Serana nods, and pushes herself up.

              The Dawnguard let them pass in peace, walking arm-in-arm through the castle.

              “What will you do now?”

              “I don’t know. My mother will probably rebuild the clan, make it what it should have been all these years,” Serana answers, and shrugs. “I could stay with her, here, get to know her without the threat of…of that prophecy hanging over our heads. Unless…”

              “Unless?”

              “Unless you have some more adventures planned?” She looks so hopeful, Aela can’t help but smile and nod.

              “You’re swift, and silent, I might make a decent hunter of you,” she concedes, and the tension in Serana’s shoulders disappears. “I suppose I can’t drag you out of bed at the crack of dawn for practice, though.”

              “No, I don’t think so.”

 

* * *

 

 

              “I need some time to think,” she’d said, and then she’d left. That had been weeks ago, and now Aela’s pacing her room. Alexius leans in her doorway, looking far too relaxed considering this was _his_ vampire friend who’d vanished into thin air.

              “She’s probably just spending time with her mother,” he says, tossing an apple at her. She almost doesn’t catch it, too focused on her pacing. It hits her in the shoulder and falls into her hands, she fumbles, almost drops it, sets it aside. Her stomach’s turning too much to eat. “She’s a four-thousand-year-old, pure-blooded vampire, I think she can handle anything Skyrim has to throw at her and then some.”

              “How can you be sure? What if she hasn’t been able to feed? What if she’s hurt? What if-?”

              “What if she’s standing right behind an ass who thinks it’s funny not to tell you she got here fifteen minutes ago?” Serana says, poking her head under Alexius’ arm and smiling at her. “You know, I’m touched you were so worried about me, but Alex is right, I can handle myself.”

              Aela shoots him a withering glare, silently vowing to beat his sorry ass the next time they spar. He grins, shameless, and removes himself from her door, letting Serana step in.

              She knows, right away. Not by the rosy tint to her cheeks, or the stunning green of her eyes, but by her smell. She smells _right_. Not like death, like she used to. Aela steps forward, cupping her cheeks and feeling the heat under her palms, stares in wonder at the not-vampire. Serana just stands there, biting her lip and awaiting judgment.

              “You…you gave up your vampirism?”

              “Yes. I thought about what you said, and you were right,” Serana says. Aela can’t help but stare at her lips as they form the words. “It didn’t make me happy. What I went through…I’m glad, because if I hadn’t I wouldn’t have lived long enough to meet Alexius, or you. I wouldn’t have learned to think for myself, just gone along with whatever my parents wanted for me. Which, in lieu of vampirism…probably an arranged marriage.”

              Something twists in Aela’s chest at the thought, and is only soothed when Serana shakes her head.

              “I’m glad that wasn’t my life, but nothing should last forever. Not like that,” she says, and she sounds so sure of herself that Aela doesn’t doubt for a moment that she has no regrets.

 

* * *

 

 

              She can hear Serana pacing on the other side of the cracked door, can hear Alexius’ little pep talk.

              “I know this isn’t exactly your comfort zone, but you can do this. You wanted this, right?” he asks, and there’s a pause. Presumably Serana is nodding. “You’re the one who brought it up?” Another pause, another nod. Probably. “Then you can do this. Let me just fix your hair…”

              Aela stifles a snort. Trust him to care more about their appearance than either of them did. He’d fussed over her, too; refused to let her wear war paint, insisted she put on a dress. Not the blue one, she’d given that to Serana like she’d planned, but a dress nonetheless. They’re among friends! No one would have cared if she’d worn her standard breeches and tunic, or even her armor! But, she supposed he had a point. This was supposed to be special, wasn’t it?

              “…just going to have to do. Go get ‘em, kid.”

              “I’m thousands of years older than you,” Serana retorts.

              “Maybe don’t remind Aela of that,” Alexius laughs, and pushes the door open.

              The friends in the pews hush, and turn to the entry with encouraging smiles on their faces as Serana takes a shaky step over the threshold, and begins the walk down the aisle. Aela sucks in a breath as her whole world is reduced to her measured steps, her eyes lighting up as she smiles, her fingers playing with a leaf from her bouquet. She’s beautiful, and she’s coming to stand beside her, now and forever.

              She knows, as she slides the ring onto Serana’s finger, that she’s going to start twisting it the moment the ceremony’s over.  


End file.
